


Monday Morning

by harrypotteristherapy, PenguinLoki



Series: Agápe verse [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, OT3, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 01:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2210013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrypotteristherapy/pseuds/harrypotteristherapy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinLoki/pseuds/PenguinLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A typical morning in the d‘Herblay-du Vallon-da la Fere home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> The song lyrics used are not ours and you really should be able to recognize Queen and their song Bicycle Race on sight. Also one of us is a college student and the other is full time nanny clearly neither of us own the rights.

_Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle. I want to ride my bicycle; I want to ride my bi--_

At 6am on Monday morning, by almost any standard, was an ungodly time to wake up no matter how long one had been doing it. While two of the three men laid in bed together let out noises of discontentment, the third reached over with a mostly sleep numb arm and turned off the alarm before the chorus of Bicycle Race could be emitted. The action was done with some regret, as the song really was instantly amusing.

As per a strict morning routine, a different song played every morning to wake the men up with plenty of time to get a good start on the day. As it so happened, only one of them actually woke with the alarm, and so put himself in charge of the playlist; the only rule for which was that the song must be appropriate for all ages, because one never knew when little ears might hear it.  

Aramis, being the morning person that he was, sat up in bed and stretched with a purposely loud yawn and was promptly smacked by two different people, one barely hitting his forearm and the other his thigh. He laughed, not even slightly bothered by the reaction and carefully extracted his limbs, untangled them from those of his husbands; not an easy task when he’d somehow ended up in the middle of them, having gone to bed on the outside of the group with Athos being the one in the middle. The two remaining men only cuddled closer to one another in the space that Aramis had just been occupied, to trap the heat that remained as Aramis cheerfully made his way to the shower to begin his (admittedly long) morning routine, he knew Athos would have his head if they ran behind because of him.

The rather large bathroom still showed the signs of Porthos having used the shower the night before. It didn’t seem to matter how many times Porthos was reminded, he still left his towel laying on the floor instead of in the hamper or hung up to dry on the towel rack. Aramis grinned fondly at it. Only Athos cared about such things.

Their shower was big, though not quite big enough for three grown men to be in at once; a fact they learned the hard way, and was something Athos thought that they should change by getting the bathroom remodeled with a larger shower. Though that was an argument that they agreed could wait till a later time as they could never all agree. With the shower as it was, fitting two of them in there wasn’t too much of a challenge, though they rarely got much showering done that way. Though, Aramis reflects, this isn’t the time to dwell on such thoughts. Athos really would have his hide if he made them all to run late. Again.

Quick shower then, though there really was no way to rush his hair. Despite what he may want the world to think, the style was not effortless.  He took more time than he probably should washing his hair and scrubbed himself down, pausing only for a moment wishing one of husbands was there to do it for him, before he rinsed himself down and got out. He grabbed one of the dry towels and wrapped it around himself before going to wake his husbands, he hoped that they wouldn’t put up much of a fight today.

“Rise and shine, loves!” he exclaimed loudly as he entered the bedroom. Twin groans answered him. “Come on,” he said, as he grabbed ahold of the mess of blankets and sheets and tugged what little remained of them on the bed off. “It’s a beautiful day and for some reason I’m in the mood for a bike ride later.”

“You’re not funny,” Porthos grumbled, though he did sit up, scratching at his neck, before he slowly made his way out of bed. (Athos didn’t move, but that wasn’t exactly unusual.) The two then began their daily dance of getting dressed and ready while weaving in and out of each other’s personal space. Occasionally they would slide lightly up against the other, pause to give brushes of lips to the other and ogled each other as they retrieved their weapons from the safe at the back of their closet. Porthos finished first, as usual, and headed downstairs with a yawn and a comment about French toast.

Aramis, finished with his hair, walked over to the side of the bed that Athos was currently occupying and yanked the pillow off of his head with a flourish that no one really appreciated, even if they had seen it. “Come on, Athos. The shower is empty and the coffee is started.”

Athos, in response, let out a long string of garbled sounds that could only loosely be described as words. “If you don’t get up, love, I’ll send an angel in here and you’ll have the devil to pay.”

“It’s too early for puns,” Athos muttered darkly before pushing himself slowly out of bed, his body clearly not as awake as his mind. “And stop using our daughter as a threat. Even if she makes for a good one.”

“It’s the only thing that’s effective when I’m already dressed!” He called out as he exited the room.

Aramis walked out of the bedroom, down the main hallway, smiling at the noise of Porthos busy in the kitchen as he prepared breakfast for everyone and double checked lunches. He entered his daughter’s room, pausing for a moment to admire the decor. Though all of her toys had been put away the night before (something they all made sure she learned to do after falling over, stepping on, and jamming toes one too many times for the three of them to be comfortable), the evidence of their existence was scattered everywhere. One of her dolls was laying on top of a bucket of green army men, a jump rope was wrapped around a rather large and impressive Lego castle that her uncle had helped her make the other day, and a large poster of a black dragon was pinned up between one of various Harry Potter characters and one for Princess and the Frog.

Aramis can’t help but smile looking down at his daughter, curled up on her side with her stuffed snowy white owl clutched in her arms. He bent down to her level and brushed her wild curly hair off of her face and kissed her forehead. “Angelica? Come on, kiddo, time to wake up.”

The six-and-one-half-year-old leaned her head ever so towards his hand while snuggling her face in the pillow, “Don’t wanna.”

Aramis grinned and ran his hand through her hair, “You’ve been spending too much time with your dad. He had the same reaction.”

Her eyes opened, bright brown peered at her padre, “Can I wake him up?”

Aramis turned his head towards the door and could faintly heard water sounding from down the hall and shook his head. "Sounds like he's up. But so are you! So let’s get you ready for school."

Angelica pouted, “I don’t want to go to school.”

Aramis rolled his eyes; this was the same thing Angelica said every Monday morning. “Of course you want to go to school. You love school.”

“It’s boring and I’m not getting out of bed!”

“Your papa is making French toast.”

Ah. The magic words. Angelica jumped out of her bed at a rather impressive speed, Aramis was almost afraid she was going to twist her ankle or bang her head against the wall, but apparently his daughter was far more coordinated upon waking than he was, which was saying something.

Aramis let Angelica pick out her own clothes, simply making sure her choice wasn’t blinding before pushing her to the bathroom to take care of her morning ablutions. As young as she was, Ang didn’t take too long to get ready, almost faster than even Athos during his college days and certainly faster than Aramis. They stopped to grab her backpack from its hook in her room before Aramis let her loose to run down stairs, wincing all the way. Angelica ran downstairs, amazingly not slipping on the carpet as Aramis followed her at a more sedate pace. Athos would have scolded her for reasons such as “safety”, but it was simply too early to be parenting.

The pair found Porthos standing at the stove, a plate of warm, fresh French toast next him and a pot of the hot golden nectar that was coffee on the other side of him. “Papa!” Angelica launched herself at Porthos’ legs in as big a hug as her little arms could manage.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Did you make my favorite?” Ang asked as she made her way to the table where there was a cup of milk waiting for her. She wiggled into her seat and waited, slightly impatiently, for her papa to bring over the food. Aramis grinned at the sight. He walked over to where Porthos stood at the stove and put his hands on Porthos sides aligning his front to his back, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“I did,” Porthos answered her after stealing a kiss from his husband. “Because you’re my favorite.”

“I thought I was your favorite,” Aramis whined with a grin as he rubbed his front into Porthos back.

“She’s cuter.” Porthos replied as he moved, causing Aramis to step back as Porthos removed the pan from the stove and placed it into the sink with one hand as the other grabbed the plate of French toast to carry over to the table.

Aramis made a wounded noise from where he was still standing at the stove, pouting but only for a moment, knowing Porthos would scold him. He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled the bowl of strawberries they had cut up just yesterday for them to eat with the breakfast. Refrigerator door shut, he made his way to the table, placed the bowl of fruit next to Porthos who glanced at it and spooned some onto Ang’s plate before serving himself as Aramis sat down across from him.

“I’m just his favorite daughter, okay padre?” Ang said to her padre trying to make him feel better, even if she didn’t fully understand what was wrong with him. Aramis shot her a smirk.

“That works. Thank you, love.”

“I’m still his favorite husband,” Athos stated as he entered the kitchen looking as though he were running late with his black suit jacket over one arm blue and gray striped tie on top of it, his button up shirt had the top three buttons undone showing his customary white undershirt and the buttons at the wrists had yet to be done. He walked over to the table and set his suit coat and tie over the back of the empty chair next to Aramis, intent on the coffee maker and buttoning his wrists as he walked, pausing only to bend down to kiss the top of Ang’s head. She paused in her mission of consuming as much French toast as possible to smile up at him.

“What? Say it isn’t so, Porthos.” Aramis groaned dramatically, stabbing a strawberry.

“I heard him say it before, padre.” Ang said, mock seriously to Aramis.

“Why is everyone picking on me this morning?” Aramis moaned.

“You woke ‘em up.” Porthos pointed out to him.

As was typical of every Monday morning, Athos moved about, his files for work having been moved from their usual homes to various places throughout the house and instead of taking the time to gather them up the night before like any normal person, he chose to enjoy the company of his family. After a certain small child had gone to bed, he'd allowed himself to be distracted by the company of the two men he considered to be his husbands. Which meant that as his family ate breakfast together he was walking to and fro until he was satisfied with what he had and stood, leaning against the kitchen counter nursing his coffee as he did a glass of wine after an extremely bad case and enjoying the time with his family.

Aramis finished eating first, getting up and placed his dishes in the dishwasher and then began to give goodbye kisses starting with Porthos whom he kissed probably longer than necessary with a hand cupping his ass. He was wearing a shit eating grin as he pulled away before he dashed over to Athos before Porthos could retaliate.

Aramis looked over Athos, taking note of yet another failed attempt at dressing himself. “Your tie isn’t straight, Athos.”

“What a coincidence, neither are we.” Athos snipped back.

“Is it late enough in the day for puns now? Excellent.”  Aramis replied, his nimble hands swiftly redoing the knot of the tie.

“I really should stop encouraging you.”

“That’s what you said last night when--”

“Not in front of Angelica,” Athos hissed at him, glancing over at where their daughter was studiously ignoring them as she drained the last of her milk. Aramis was good enough to look properly berated for a moment before turning to say goodbye to his daughter.

He pulled Ang into a hug and kissed the top of her head. “Have fun at school today, sweetheart.”

“Love you all, bye!” Aramis said one last time before rushing out the door to the garage, already late for his meeting of the day.

“Love you too, Daddy!” Ang called back to him, despite the door being already shut.

Porthos finished his breakfast and began to hand dishes from the table over to Athos who without a word began putting them into the dishwasher, moving carefully so nothing got onto his shirt. Porthos tried not to grin at that, it was so typical Athos. Then again, he would probably get third degree from Treville if he showed up with powdered sugar all over the front of his white shirt the morning a big case was about to be presented in court. It might lead to some awkward questions. Though there had been a few times when Athos had shown up with slightly more questionable stains on his clothing. At that thought Porthos grinned.

Athos walked around the counter to where Porthos stood, done with the dishes, “Shouldn’t you be leaving?” Athos asked with an eyebrow raise.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Porthos asked as he put his hands on Athos’s hips and pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around Athos’s back and leaned forward until they were forehead to forehead.

The corner of Athos mouth twitched as he raised his hand to rest on his husband’s cheek. “For now, yes, but not forever because Aramis would drive me insane,” he said brushing the scar that ran down Porthos’ face from his eye brow to cheek with his thumb. Porthos smiled at that and then pressed his lips to Athos’s, letting a hand slip down to cup his ass and squeeze it before letting Athos go.

“Keep it up,” Athos said with a mock glare. “And I’ll think you’re spending too much time with Aramis.”

“Are you jealous?”

“No, I’m terrified. I remember college.”

Porthos simply grinned and turned, leaving Athos leaning heavily against the counter as he walked over to where Angelica still sat, bending down to look her in the eyes. “Behave at school today even if it isn’t always fun, sweetheart.” He stated before standing up, kissing her on the head and turning to leave.

“Padre’s my favorite now.” She stated seriously.

Porthos, standing in the doorway to the garage, shrugged, already accustomed to the change in favorite father that occurred minute to minute. “I think I’ll live. Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, papa.”

With Porthos gone and everything taken care of it was time for Athos to do one last check before leaving with Angelica.

“Do I have everything?” Athos muttered to himself. Ang perked up from her spot at the table where she sat waiting for them to leave, her dad talking to himself in the morning was her favorite part of their morning routine. “Keys, wallet, backpack, lunch box in the backpack, coffee, phone.” Athos listed every item as he picked it up, Ang mouthing along with him. “Brief case, court case, my lunch, child…” He’d forgotten her once, and had driven for ten minutes before he noticed her missing from her car seat. He had never quite forgiven himself for it.

“I have a name, dad.” She reminded him, getting up from the table to join him where he stood at the counter, backpack slung over her shoulder.

Athos rolled his eyes. “Of course you do, Lucy. Are you ready to go, then?” he asked, and looked at her expectantly.

“Yes, and padre says you can’t call me Lucy,” Angelica said pointedly.

“But your papa said it was okay,” Athos said absently as he put a hand on the top of her head and led them out of the house.

“I get in trouble when I do that.” Athos was forced to admit to himself that she had a point. They’d spent the past three years trying to teach her that she was not allowed to ask for something from a parent when another had already told her no. But sometimes it was so hard to keep track and she really was too crafty for her own good.

“I’m a grown up, I can get away with it,” he replied, deciding it was too early to be a good parent. When he had more caffeine in his system he’d worry about coming up with a better response but at that time it sufficed.

“Padre says that if you’re cute you can get away with almost anything,” Angelica argued back matter-of-factly.

Athos nodded. “Your padre is also a narcissist, so I’m not surprised.”

Angelica furrowed her brow, “What’s a narsis… narcisa… Hey!” she suddenly brightened. “Is that like Narcissa Malfoy?”

Athos smiled, “You are certainly your mother’s daughter.”

Angelica grinned up at him in response and Athos ushered her out the door, pausing to lock it behind them before they climbed into the car and buckled up, mirrors adjusted and Angelica settled in the back Athos pulled the car out of the garage and drove off.

 

 **Writing Outtakes**  (blue for _harrypotteristherapy_ and green for  _PenguinLoki_ ):

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